Only the Young
by Gillian Beilschmidt
Summary: A oneshot about Spain, France, and fem!Prussia as they think about their lives together. Gakuen AU, non-nation human names used. Sentimental and cheesy and lots of cussing from fem!Prussia. Art from Hima's blog!


**A/N: Ah yeah, so this is gonna be a little cheesy, I just wanted to write a testament to how awesome friendship is, cause these guys are the definition of friendship with all the wars they've been through in canon. I got the title from Brandon Flowers' song Only the Young. It just gives me BTT feels.**

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Three youths appraised the freshly painted gritty brick wall in front of them with attitudes ranging from severity to amusement to childish glee. The girl with the pale hair that ghosted down to her narrow waist cackled upon inspecting it more closely and lazily tossed the used paint can to her Converse-clad feet. The boy on her left, a good looking boy with curly brown locks only a few shades darker than his warm skin, eyed his work sheepishly. It wasn't nearly as good as his friends', but he was still proud of it, in his own way. The tallest of the trio, a slender, impeccably dressed young man, regarded his art seriously, frowning a little as he added a finishing touch. "_Fin_," he pronounced at last, shaking up the spray paint can and adding an artistic swirl beneath the spiral galaxy design for the heck of it. "Not bad, gentlemen."

"I think you mean fucking awesome," the girl corrected him, admiring her caricature of the school's serious principal with a red beer cup in his hand and a tie around his head proudly. "Can't wait to see what the ol' man has to say about this one."

"You know, Gillian, if it was anyone but your father, you would have been expelled by now," the blond, lanky boy told her pointedly, giving her a severe look.

Gillian shrugged, feigning indifference.

The athletic boy in a tight-fitting Madrid soccer jersey picked up the can that Gillian had carelessly tossed and frowned when he saw Francis' finished work. "What is that supposed to be, Francis?" Antonio asked, lightly touching the delicate azure and sea green and milky white patterns.

"It's a spiral galaxy, obviously," he said, shrugging his shoulders with Gallic disdain.

"Huh," Antonio said, shaking his head with a light laugh. "I feel kind of stupid now." He had tried to spray paint a bull, but it came out looking kind of like a lopsided cat.

"Don't," Francis told his friend, grinning. "Gillian drew a bird." Unlike the painting of her father, the cute little yellow bird was done in a pleasing, pop style.

"And a really badass caricature," she added, jutting out her chin defiantly. "Don't be jealous of my awesome art." She was really good, too. She had managed to capture the angrily jutting out jaw of her father and the stern, slicked back blond hair and piercing blue eyes quite well. "Alright, back to Frannie's place for some victory beer."

"Can we make margaritas instead? Your beer makes me sick, Gil," Antonio complained as they picked up the rest of the littered cans and piled into Francis' silver Aston Martin parked discretely a block away.

"No, 'Tonio, I already told you, everyone is going to find out what a raging homo you are if you keep drinking those sissy drinks," the German girl informed him as she plopped down in the passenger seat next to Francis, who slapped away her hand as she tried to mess with the radio. "You gotta drink beer, like me."

"Margaritas aren't gay," Antonio protested as they pulled out onto the highway. "Lovino likes them!"

"You're proving her point, _mon ami_," Francis said, grinning at him in the rearview mirror.

"It's okay. I can't help it that I'm more awesome and manly than both of you," the girl said, shrugging her slender shoulders.

"Antonio, will you hit her for me? I'm driving," Francis said plaintively.

"Ouch! You can't hit me! I'm a fucking lady!" Gillian exclaimed, as Antonio smacked her in the back of the head, laughing.

"You just said you were more manly than both of us," he countered.

"It's true," Gillian declared, propping her feet up on the dashboard. "Francis here is more of a girl than I am. Look at that hair." She tugged on her friend's blond locks affectionately.

"It's not hard to be more feminine than you," the French boy sniffed delicately, shoving her dirty shoes off his precious car. "You dress like a hooker and you talk like a sailor."

"What!" She cried, pretending to be outraged. "I do not." She considered tugging down the tight black skirt that was riding up her legs, but as her bright purple socks came up almost to her thighs, she figured it was okay.

"You do," Francis affirmed. "And I am far more gorgeous, of course."

"Shut up and drive, Frannie."

Half an hour later, the three friends found themselves sitting on the low, sloping roof of the Bonnefoys' house, sipping beer—Gillian's, of course, since the Bonnefoys couldn't stand beer—and eating the remains of some delicious pastries that Francis' mother had made for them. The mid-May night sky hung over them like a blanket, warm and close. Graduation was tomorrow.

"Ah, I'm going to miss your mother's cooking next year," Antonio sighed, leaning back against the shingles as he looked up at the star-studded California sky.

"She'll probably drive up to Washington and bring you some," Francis mused. "She likes you more than she does me," he added with a grumble, finishing off his raspberry pastry.

"Right, that's why she's sending you off to fucking Italy to get your fancy art degree," Gillian said with a harsh laugh, startling her two friends.

Francis turned to look at her, hurt in his clear blue eyes. Immediately she flushed and muttered, "Sorry, Francis. That wasn't cool. I'm just…" She sighed heavily and suddenly became very absorbed in her checkered shoelaces. Gillian's grades had never been high, but she had also bombed her SAT, had a terrible attendance record, no extracurriculars except for the art club, and a very bad reputation with most, if not all, of her teachers. None of the universities she had applied to had accepted her, so her father was making her work and go to a community college near home for the next year or so.

"It's okay," he said gently, ruffling her wild hair. "'Tonio and I are gonna come visit you as often as we can."

"Yeah," Antonio said excitedly, accidentally spraying her with bread crumbs. "I'm only a few hours north! And I already promised _mi madre_ I'd come down for every holiday, so I'll see you then."

"And you can hang out with Maddie," Francis added, winking.

Pink color lightly dusted the albino's cheeks as she said, "Yeah, I know…I'm just gonna miss you losers."

"Awww, Gilly!" Antonio cried, throwing his arms around her shoulders and hugging her tightly. "I'm gonna miss you too."

"Don't touch me," she said, laughing, as she tried to shove him away. "You're so damn touchy feely!"

Francis scooted closer to her and slipped an arm around her as well. "And you forget, _cherie_, that we have the entire summer."

"Yeah," she said, perking up a little. "You're right."

"Can I get that in writing?" He asked, delighted that she seemed to cheer up.

"Fuck off," she laughed, her unusually colored eyes crinkling with mirth.

A brief silence descended on the trio as they lay in wonder and contemplation, all of them thinking of all the times they had climbed up onto Francis' roof to do just this; look at the stars and talk about their futures and make fun of each other. Now that Francis was leaving the country in just a few months, Antonio was leaving California to go to a school in Washington, and Gillian was going to be stuck here, Francis felt a bit of an ache in his heart as he realized how much he would miss his friends. He could Skype or write letters or email, but it wouldn't be the same, and they must have felt it too. This was the last prank of their high school careers. Grades had already been finalized and graduation was tomorrow, so they couldn't be too harshly penalized for the graffiti, even if it could be proved that they had done it (although everyone knew it was them).

"Well, gents, it's been swell," Gillian announced. She never could sit still, or be quiet, for very long. She jumped to her feet, causing Francis to throw out an arm anxiously in case she should stumble forward, but she just stood tall and proud, overlooking the lush California suburb in all its windswept beauty. She surveyed the twinkling lights of the spread out houses like a general surveying a land he intended to seize, hands on her slender hips. "I think we did alright. We left our mark on this town."

"Yeah," Antonio agreed, chuckling a little. "I feel bad for the next senior class. How can they live up to our pranks?"

"I'm sure Alfred and Yong Soo will find a way to make it happen," Francis said drily, referring to the all-American jock and his hyperactive friend, who were known for causing trouble in the junior class.

Gillian snorted. "No one can match our awesomeness," she declared. "This is our town!" She yelled, stretching her hands high above her head as if she wanted to reach up to the stars and claim them as her own.

"Gil, quit yelling," Francis laughed.

"I mean it," Gillian said, turning to face her two best friends suddenly. "That won't change, will it? We'll always be the Bad Touch Trio, right?" Her red eyes flickered between the two of them, desperate for confirmation, despite her wide, cocky smile. "No matter what?"

"_Si_," Antonio affirmed, smiling warmly up at her. He took her offered hand as she yanked him to his feet, grinning. "You think a few months is gonna change that?"

"You two are going to fall and die and then I'm going to laugh," Francis said with a heavy sigh, not answering her question. He had never liked coming up on the roof, not since he was little and actually _had_ fallen off—into the pool, thankfully, but he still blamed Gillian and Antonio for the thin scar that marred his otherwise blemish-free forehead.

"Don't be an old man, Frannie," Antonio teased, tugging on the collar of his designer shirt. "You gotta stand up. The view isn't as good when you're sitting down."

He reluctantly let them pull him up and had to agree; the view was infinitely improved by standing up, especially when he was quite a bit taller than his rather short friends. "I'm going to miss this view," he said, stroking his stubble thoughtfully. "It is quite _magnifique._ _La vie est si fugace, mais belle..._"

"Ew, now he's talking in French," Gillian stage-whispered to Antonio, who chuckled. "He's gonna get all philosophical on us."

"Way to ruin the moment," Francis said, flicking the back of her head. "You two have no appreciation for the finer things in life."

They just laughed at him. For a second, they could pretend that nothing was changing, that life would always be like this: Antonio laughing loudly at something Gillian said and Francis pretending to be annoyed, but all of them building off of each other with the ease that only lifetime friends had. It seemed like only minutes ago that a pudgy, five-year-old albino girl had stolen a crying Antonio's building blocks and Francis had to chase her down to get them back for his friend. And now here they were, larger than life and causing more trouble than ever, but still those same little kids underneath the years of uncomfortable growth spurts and awkward relationships and detentions and aced tests and victorious soccer games. Some things might change, Francis mused, as he shook his head at his teasing friends, and they might move apart, but he knew this would never go away, this almost visible band between the three of them that bound them together. The blond boy smiled up at the sky, searching for inspiration for the final art piece for his portfolio. But then Gillian snorted, unable to stop laughing at his dreamy expression, and he turned back to look at them and realized he had found it, in the twinkle of Antonio's mischievous green eyes and the silvery flow of Gillian's hair like comet tails and the vast midnight background that unfurled behind the two giggling teenagers. And he found himself laughing too.

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_I hope you liked it! This is just a oneshot. I just really love the Bad Touch Trio and fem!Prussia. Implied Spamano and nyo!PruCan if ya want. Anyway, I can so see Francis going into art, although I think Gillian is a really good artist too, but more in a modern art style, painting urinals and creating kitsch and pop art and stuff, and Francis would be in a much more academic tradition with oil painting, eeee 3 And then there's Antonio, bless his heart. He's a good soccer player though. And cute. Did I mention cute? _

_I fell in love with the __**webcomix**__'s idea of fem!Prussia doing really badly in high school to the point of not going to college right away. Poor Gillian. I guess I just can't write a non-angsty Prussia._

_Who is Prussia's dad? Germania! I can so see him as a school principal. A lot of gakuen AU's I've read have Grandpa Rome as principal, but I like the idea of Germania instead. Ha. Reviews are oh so lovely, and if you like what you read, please look at my other fics too uwu_

_Oh yeah, brief translation. "...magnifique._ _La vie est si fugace, mais belle..." Magnificent. Life is so beautiful, yet fleeting...Francis is such a romantic dork, hah._

_Please don't be offended about Prussia and France making fun of Spain's sexuality...I definitely don't support name calling like that but I feel like that's something that their characters would do._


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